A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 254 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: The Italian gardener, Mario and the rugged Marine, Hassan work shirtless side by side. Even though he resists it Mario's lust finally erupts. "Godammit," Hassan says, "I've wanted you every time I watched you work. Well now you've shown me you want it bad and, boy, you're gonna get it." The Marine stared down at the Italian stud spread-eagled naked. "So fucking beautiful – man, that turns me on."

Chapter 254 – "The Soldier & The Italian Gardener"

The bungalow Bob had recently bought as a rental had its charms, everyone agreed, but Randy had proclaimed it a "fixer" – run down and in need of renovation.

With work about to begin Randy said to the boys, "As you all know, me and the men want this to be mostly a boys' project – give you a chance to show us what you're made of. But this is serious business, lots of money involved, so no fooling around." He fixed his gaze sternly on Ben and Eddie. His warning to the junior boys was well-timed – but ignored.

The first job was partial demolition and Zack had warned that demolition was more dangerous than construction – another warning that was ignored. The oversexed `three amigos', Eddie, Ben and Brandon had fucked up – by fucking each other. With one wall left standing – but only just – they decided to take time out to "pull one off" as Ben said, which Eddie described otherwise as "a quick blow job".

As their mini-orgy intensified, the wall shook and would have fallen on them but for the brave intervention of the Italian gardener Mario – and the wall fell on him instead. The Marine, Hassan, who had been working with Mario, pulled him out from the rubble shaken but with only minor injuries. Mindful of the possibility of delayed shock Hassan had removed Mario from the scene for rest and recuperation at his house up in the hills.

The younger boys were punished by the three senior boys, Pablo, Darius and Jamie with a boisterous senior-on-junior ass fuck. It was also an opportunity for Pablo and Brandon to reconcile. Randy greeted the six cum-soaked boys, hugged Pablo and squeezed Brandon's shoulder. "So you two finally made your peace?" he smiled. "That makes me real happy. Can't have my boys fighting."

"Er, is there any word from Mario," Brandon asked. "Is he really OK?"

"Kiddo, he's been bathed and put to bed by a tall, dark and handsome muscle-god Marine. You do the math. My guess is he's doing just fine.

Randy was right, of course. At that moment Hassan was gazing down at the young Italian on his bed – the naked gardener with the flawless body and dark Mediterranean looks. Mario had dozed a little but now looked up at the rugged Marine. "You feeling OK, Mario?"

"Sure, sir, never better," Mario grinned.

"You don't have to call me sir, Mario. I don't think of you as one of the boys."

"Oh, I like to. Makes me feel like one of your new recruits, captain – under you command."

Hassan inhaled sharply, feeling his cock pulse in his fatigues. Mario gazed up at the exotic, chiseled features and slanted eyes. "If it's OK with you I'd like to stick around this afternoon. The bungalow can wait. If you like I could stay up here and do some more work on your garden." He flashed an inviting smile. "Perhaps we could work on it together, captain?"

Hassan smiled back at him. "Nothing I'd like better. And later, when Eddie shows up we'll clean him up and the three of us can have dinner together. Sound like a plan?"

Mario chuckled, "Aye-aye, Capitano."

"You hungry?" Hassan asked. "Looks like we missed the lunch that the twins brought up to the bungalow but I have the remains of a casserole in the oven. You up for that?"

Mario frowned, "Up for that?" He blushed deeply, acutely aware of his hard-on under the sheet and mistakenly thinking Hassan's `up for that' was some reference to it.

"Means `would you like that?'" Hassan laughed.

"Ah, scusi," Mario smiled – "my English ... Of course I would like that ... molto gentile. He often lapsed into Italian when he was flummoxed. He scrambled out of bed with his back to Hassan and stepped into his jeans nervously, hopping on one leg as he clumsily pulled them up. He buttoned them up and turned round, hoping his boner was not obvious underneath.

He need not have worried. Hassan hadn't seen his erection but he had got a good look at his beautiful ass flexing as he struggled into his jeans, and Hassan had his own erection in his fatigues. They smiled nervously and Hassan said, "Come, my friend, let's eat out on the patio."

While Hassan dealt with the casserole he asked Mario to make his selection from the large wine rack in his kitchen. Mario was impressed. "Ah, you have many Italian wines here ... and look, my favorite ... Brunello di Montalcino." He pulled the bottle out and smiled. "Montalcino is only twenty kilometers from my village in Tuscany. Have you been to Tuscany, Hassan?"

"Sure have. Spent six months in Northern Italy working with the Italian army before coming to the States. I even speak a few words of the language but," he stammered, "solamente un poco – is that right for `only a little'?"

Mario laughed. "Perfetto, capitano. However, as you speak so little Italian and I speak not a word of Arabic, we shall have to converse in English." He chuckled. "Or, as we say in Italy, with the language of the eyes." He blushed, realizing that could be taken as seduction, which is not what he had meant, and then he made matters worse by stammering on, "I mean only that when two people do not speak the same language a lot can be said by the eyes. I er, I was not for a moment suggesting that..."

"It's OK, Mario," Hassan laughed. "There's a lot gets lost in translation. Come on, let's take all this onto the patio."

The slight embarrassment was short-lived and, with all the talk of wine and Tuscany, the tone was set. As they ate and drank they both found pleasure in being able to talk with someone who was widely traveled and familiar with Europe. They both loved living in California, especially with the spectacular group of men they had fallen in with by chance, but they missed their native cultures and welcomed the chance to talk about them with another expatriate.

The sun was high in the sky but there was a stiff onshore breeze blowing through the hills from the Pacific and the patio was shaded, so Hassan went indoors and came out wearing a khaki T-shirt that hugged his torso and accentuate his big biceps, with a glimpse of short curly black chest hair in the shirt's V-neck. He gave Mario a loose white cotton shirt ... "Here, you gotta keep warm after that shock you had."

Mario slipped it on and fastened only the bottom buttons, leaving it to flap open over the rounded contours of his perfect pecs. As they ate, each man stole surreptitious glances at the other and their hearts beat a little faster.

Despite the distraction, their conversation flowed fast and easy. Hassan talked about his native village in the Middle East and, comparing notes, they were surprised to find similarities between their villages two thousand miles apart. "I guess village life is pretty much the same the world over," Hassan said, flashing a white-toothed smile on his handsome olive-skinned face. Mario felt his cock pulse and he blushed slightly, though Hassan attributed the blush to the wine.

And that was the odd thing. Although the Italian and the Arab quickly established a close rapport, chatting and laughing amiably, neither one was really aware of the extent of the other man's sexual attraction to him. They both had more or less permanent erections but they tried to conceal them, unaware that the attraction was mutual.

Hassan attributed Mario's stumbling expressions of intimacy to nervousness, a common occurrence in men when facing the exotically handsome, muscular Marine Captain. And Mario misinterpreted Hassan's intensely private nature as a lack of sexual interest in him. Also, Hassan's emotional and sexual needs were met by Eddie, a boy he loved very much.

In fact, Mario cringed when he thought of his earlier flippant comments – feeling like a new recruit under the captain's command' – language of the eyes'. Now they seemed like clumsy attempts at seduction and he determined to avoid such ambiguous statements in future.

None of this dampened the pleasure they found in each other's company and conversation, though a couple of times they did veer dangerously close to sexual matters. When Hassan asked Mario why he had decided to come to Southern California he responded laughingly, "The weather and the men. It's always summer here and I love the sun. And there are more gorgeous men here per square mile than anywhere else."

When Mario posed a similar question to Hassan the Marine stumbled out platitudes at first but then, in a moment of raw candor, said, "Actually, I came here to find Mark. When I had interrogated him as a prisoner of war I ... I fell in love with him and, when the U.S. Marines recruited me I followed Mark halfway round the world to be with him. That's common knowledge in the house so I feel free telling you."

"You're right, Hassan," Mario said quietly. "The story is common knowledge and Darius, especially, gets off on describing the scene of the macho soldier's interrogation in that desert cell. He makes it sound quite homoerotic, though I'm not really into the bondage scene. Not much anyway."

They were in very thin ice here and both of them felt their cocks rearing up in their pants. Hassan hastily said, "Well, happily that period of my life is over and it's not something I'm proud of. Mark is now a good friend – and I hope you and I can be friends too, Mario."

"I'm sure we will be, Hassan," Mario smiled – and the word `friends' seemed to close the door on any possibility of sexual involvement – despite their hidden boners.

Mario found firmer footing with humor. "And now, Capitano, I must ... how do your say? ... `sing for my supper' by doing some work. You gave me lunch and in return I must offer you my landscaping skills. When I worked up here last time I noticed, just a few feet down the hill, a sort of natural terrace that faces west. With a little spadework it could be fashioned into a proper terrace, planted with shrubs and flowers, a private place where I see you and Eddie sitting together watching the sunset into your old age.

"Not so much of the `old age' buddy, but I know the spot. Sure, let's take a crack at it." They put away the dishes, Mario pulled on his boots and they walked down to the garden shed. They selected spades and forks and continued on down the slope to the terrace. "It just needs to be cut back a bit into the hillside to make it deeper – hence the spadework."

"You sure you're up for this, Mario? After all, only a couple of hours ago you were buried under a wall."

"No problema, Capitano," Mario grinned. "We Italians are used to disasters ... remember Vesuvius and Pompeii? Of course, that was a whole city that was buried– this was just a little crumbling wall. However, I do not want to get dirt on this fine shirt you lent me." He took it off and hung it on a bush. Hassan removed his T-shirt and flung it on top of Mario's.

Shirtless in the hot sun they gazed fleetingly at each other's gleaming body, then turned away abruptly and tried to ignore the bulge in their pants. A few minutes later they were hacking at the earth, digging out dirt from the fold in the terrace.

High above, up at the main house, Steve and Lloyd were sunning by their pool and Steve suddenly said, "Hey, Lloyd, get a look at that. If that doesn't get your dick hard nothing will. They gazed down at the two shirtless men, one in beltless blue jeans, the other in military fatigues, their muscles rippling in the sunlight as they energetically wielded their shovels.

The young Italian's classic features were set in concentration, his black curly hair hanging over his brow. The Marine's exotically handsome face gleamed with sweat, his long black hair falling in his slanted eyes. "Hell," Lloyd gasped, "you know those two studs have got to have boners like rocks in their pants. I sure do just looking at them."

"Well in that case come here and let me take care of it. We shouldn't watch them. You know how Hassan is about his privacy. Poor guy has his fellow Marines drooling over him all day."

"Yeah, poor guy," Lloyd smiled lowering his swim trunks.

The laborers were unaware they were being watched, even by each other, as they were both skilled at looking away the instant their eyes met, a common phenomenon of men cruising each other that Bob once laughingly described as the definition of a split second.

Still, as the work continued the men grew hotter, in every sense of the word, and their cocks were pulsing in time to their hearts. Manual labor often made guys horny, as evidenced by Randy when he came roaring home from work and jumped Bob. They were working shoulder to shoulder now, and each time their flesh touched they felt pre-cum oozing in their pants.

But still they hid their lust from each other, still unaware that it was reciprocated by the other man. Until...

They had been hacking away at the back of the terrace, loosening the earth, and they came to a stubborn deeply embedded shrub that had to be removed. Together they tugged at it, rocking it back and forth to loosen it. Their bare chests were almost touching and they could feel each other's sweat spraying onto them as they jerked at the shrub. Mario stumbled forward slightly and he gasped as the bulge in his jeans brushed against the Marine's crotch.

Up above by the pool Lloyd was face down on a chaise getting his ass fucked by Steve. He raised his head and stole a glance at the homoerotic scene below of the two handsome laborers, stripped to the waist, one in jeans the other in fatigues, their muscles straining with effort. "Fucking pornographic," he murmured.

But the shrub was finally coming loose and Hassan yelled, "Come on, almost there. Flex those muscles, stud ... together now ... one last heave..." Each of them gazed at the other man's eyes, at the sweat running down his face, at the veins popping in his neck and biceps. And then, yielding to their superior strength, the shrub gave up the fight and suddenly jerked out of the ground. "Yes!" Hassan yelled in triumph, but with the force of the sudden release of the shrub he lost his balance and fell backward, pulling Mario down with him.

The Marine landed on his back in the soft earth and Mario fell on top of him. His face thudded against Hassan's chest, his cheek on the metal of his dog tags in the cleft between his pecs. Mario's lips tasted the salt taste of the soldier's sweat and he felt the heart beating under his check. Consumed by sensual overload Mario finally lost all sense of decorum and restraint.

He licked the cleft between Hassan's pecs, his nipples, up over the pulsing veins in his neck, over the stubbled chin to his mouth. His full, sensual lips were slightly apart as Hassan breathed heavily. The young Italian inhaled the captain`s breath, threw his head back and howled, then clamped their mouths together. He slid his chest against Hassan's, pressed their crotches together ... and uttered muffled screams as his cock exploded in his jeans – a massive release of semen that had been building for hours.

Mario's body jerked and shuddered on top of Hassan, who lay still beneath him in a state of mild shock at what had happened. As semen drained from Mario's cock, soaking his jeans, the real world came flooding back and, as if waking from a dream, he was horrified by his realization of what he had done. He gazed down at Hassan's startled eyes ... eyes that seemed to him to contain no trace of reciprocated desire.

Mario suddenly leapt to his feet and with a stammered, "I'm sorry, sir," he turned and ran. He scrambled over the slope of the terrace, up the hill toward the guest house, desperate to just get away, be alone, and try to block this whole humiliating episode from his mind. But he heard sounds of panting breath behind him and he knew Hassan was following him to berate him, or worse, for his foolish actions.

He quickened his stumbling effort to escape but it was hopeless against the Marine who had been trained to run in desert sand. Hassan launched himself forward, grabbed Mario's ankle and brought him crashing to the ground. In seconds he was on his knees straddling the scared young Italian.

"I'm sorry, sir," Mario stammered. "I didn't mean ... I was just ... I mean ... I got carried away. I knew you didn't want it but you were so incredibly hot I couldn't hold back. I'll go away, sir, and leave you alone ... that's what you want, I know."

"How the fuck do you know what I want?" said Hassan. "You're batting zero on that so far, pal. I'm not mad at you for lusting for me – shit, most guys do that. I'm angry because you tried to run away ... from me, Hassan! ... a guy who's had a hard-on for you ever since I brought you up here and watched you sleep on my bed. Hell, I was so afraid you would want to leave when you woke up that I almost tied you to the bed. That would have turned me on but would have scared you shitless so I didn't – I just hoped you'd stick around.

"I'm angry with myself too. Usually when I want something I just grab it, but there was something about you that made me hold back ... I liked you too much. I wouldn't make a move unless I knew you wanted it, but it seemed like you didn't. Hell, you were scared to even make eye contact. Well now you've shown me you want it ... and, boy, you're gonna get it. No-one turns his back on this Marine. It's just you and me up here, all alone, and you're no match for me so you take what I dish out, is that clear?"

"Yes, captain," Mario said, his cock already getting stiff as he looked into the blazing eyes of the powerful Marine, with dirt streaked over his bare chest. He didn't know if Hassan's anger was real or where it would lead, but he was in a pitch of excitement waiting to find out.

In a series of quick moves Hassan jumped to his feet, reached down and grabbed Mario's wrist. He pulled him up, threw him effortlessly over his shoulder and walked into the house.

Up at the main house Steve and Lloyd had been watching while they fucked, and had both shot their loads when Mario had howled and cum in his jeans. Mesmerized, they watched events unfold and when Hassan marched into the house with Mario slung over his shoulder Lloyd laughed, "Bingo – told you so."

Hassan threw Mario on his back, where he lay staring up at the muscle-god Marine towering over him. "Godammit," Hassan growled, "I've wanted you every time I've watched you working in the garden. And when I got to know you better here, especially when we worked together, I lusted for you even more. I knew exactly what I wanted to do but held back until now."

Mario didn't resist as Hassan spread-eagled his arms and legs on the bed. At each of the four bedposts were lengths of rope that he used often on Eddie, the boy's favorite thing. Now, as he worked skillfully, Hassan said, "It was you who brought up the memories from all those years ago in the desert, when I chained up that beautiful blond American soldier, tortured his magnificent body and fucked his ass. You said you were not into bondage and I knew right away I had to find out."

Hassan stood back and gazed down at the handsome Italian gardener, shirtless in jeans and boots, spread-eagled in bondage, his muscular body stretched and gleaming in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window blinds.

Mario pulled at his restraints and realized that he was tied tightly with no way to escape. He was completely at the mercy of this rugged Arab/Asian Marine captain and a momentary jolt of panic spiked through him. His fear was stoked by not knowing whether Hassan's domination was real of fantasized, or how far he would take it. Reflexively he pulled again at the ropes, his naked torso writhing, his square cut Latin features wincing with effort as his head thrashed from side to side, his curly black hair tossing wildly.

Hassan groaned, "Oh shit, man, that is fucking spectacular ... all those times I've fantasized about it ... this is better than I ever imagined it would be. You are such a beautiful man and I love watching jocks like you struggle in bondage." Hassan ripped open his fatigues, pulled out his huge, iron-hard cock and stroked it.

The sight of the exotic, dark skinned Marine pumping his cock, his muscles rippling in the sunlight, made Mario struggle even more in mounting desire, fear, and a desperate need to touch him, worship his body, touch his cock.

Hassan's eyes blazed down at the writhing body, at the washboard abs flexing, narrow waist cinched by his beltless blue jeans. "You're driving me fucking crazy, man," Hassan said "... So fucking hot ... I gotta ... yeah ... oh fuck ...fuck ... Yeah..." He stared wild-eyed at Mario's face, pointed his cock at it, and blasted a stream of cum straight into it.

Semen poured over his face as the Italian struggled and moaned, his face thrashing from side to side to avoid the torrent of liquid slamming into it and into his tousled hair. He opened his mouth and swallowed hard until he felt he was drowning in the soldier's bitter-sweet juice

When the flow stopped Mario closed his eyes and tried to recover, his heart beating so hard he felt it would burst from his chest. He felt liquid dripping onto his face and opened his eyes to the sight of the soldier's cock hanging out of his fatigues, cum still oozing from it. He heard Hassan's deep, accented voice – "Beautiful ... so fucking beautiful ..." – and incredibly one last burst of semen splashed down on his chest.

The only sound in the room was their heaving breath as Hassan gazed down at the young Italian, his flawless body spread-eagled on the bed with cum flowing down his face, his neck and between the mounds of his chest. Mario watched in awe as the shirtless Marine stuffed his cock back in his fatigues and zipped them up, then paced round the bed without taking his eyes off Mario's cum-covered face.

"Man," Hassan said, "I guarantee you have never looked more beautiful than you do now. And best of all, you're helpless – at the mercy of a tough Marine. I can do what I like to you, boy, you understand that?"

"Si signore," Mario said compliantly. "What are you going to do to me, sir?"

"Like I said – whatever I want." Hassan went to the kitchen and came back with a beer that he opened, and sat sprawled in an armchair close to the bed. There was silence as Hassan drank from the bottler and stared at the bound Italian gardener. Stripped to the waist, his arms were stretched upward and his shoulders bulged. The ripped muscles in his chest and abs flexed and his wide lats slanted down to a tight waist, blue jeans clinging to his narrow hips.

Mario was in a daze, feeling like a sacrificial offering, chained to a slab waiting while his captor decided how to use his body. He tensed for sudden action but instead he was surprised by the calmness of the Hassan's voice.

"That stuff we talked about – my time in the desert war interrogating and torturing soldiers like Mark – not that there is anyone like Mark. I did that under military orders and, like I said, I'm not proud of it. But I still fantasize about the beauty of Mark chained to the wall. It left me with a taste for seeing handsome muscle-gods tied up like that, an appetite that still needs to be fed.

"Zack once told me he has this thing about beauty. When he sees it in a man it can be so intense that it's painful. It's as if the man is too beautiful, so much that Zack has to own that beauty ... control it ... hurt it. Bob had that effect on him which is why, out in the dunes, Zack tied him up, whipped him and fucked his ass. And for that brief moment he owned Bob and his beauty, and had one of the most spectacular orgasms of his life.

"When I looked at you tied to the bed, so fucking gorgeous, I had to own you too, had to put my mark on your beauty. My balls were bursting so I sprayed my jizz over that handsome face and perfect body. And now here you are, my prisoner, smothered with the juice of my manhood. You will learn to love it as Eddie loves it. His story, too, is common knowledge.

"The boy was in a Marine recruiting video we were shooting. He played a wounded young soldier rescued by his captain, but when the shoot ended I carried him away to my jeep as if the story were continuing and drove him to my house in the desert. I tied him as you are tied now and told him he would become what I had once tried and failed to make Mark – my sex slave. It was a fantasy, of course, but the boy was very scared at first, though he grew to love the sensation of being my prisoner forever, existing only to serve me, to be my sexual plaything.

"And in a way that's what he became – but much else besides. He became my boy and he knows I love him deeply – his sense of mischief, his devotion, everything about him. He is never so happy than when he is tied as you are now and he looks up at his Marine Captain with fear and exhilaration – as you are doing now.

"So, you ask, what am I going to do to you? You are another challenge, quite different from Eddie. You are the handsome young Italian, cool, sophisticated, looking at the world with your European curiosity and amusement. And I am just a rough Marine Captain with a taste for bondage and domination of beautiful men." Hassan stood up and his voice took on a rough edge. "But the real difference between you and me is that you are my prisoner. For the next few hours I own you and your dark, handsome face and beautiful body."

The captain took another gulp of beer and rubbed the back of his hand roughly across his mouth. He put the bottle down, jumped on the bed, and knelt astride Mario's waist.

Another stab of fear pierced Mario as he looked up at the massively handsome soldier, his naked torso flexing and gleaming in the striped sunlight. But it was the cold, hard look in his slanted eyes that scared Mario and he instinctively tugged again at his bound wrists.

"Good," Hassan smiled, "I like to see a man struggle like that. It makes my dick hard."

Suddenly the soldier's arrogance offended Mario and he sneered, "Vaffanculo."

Hassan's knowledge of Italian slang was good enough to know that he had just been invited to `go fuck yourself,' and his reaction was swift. "Defiance ... I like that too in a man such as yourself, but that is not something you say to this Marine. His eyes flashed and he squeezed Mario's nipples hard, rolling them in his fingertips, even using his nails.

Mario's face grimaced in pain. "Aaaagh ... no ... it hurts too much ... Stop!"

"You can do better than that, boy."

"Si ... si ... mi scusi ... I'm sorry, signore ... please, sir ... forgive me."

The pain stopped immediately. "Good," Hassan said more gently. "Now we understand each other." He looked down at the tears running down Mario's cheeks, mixing with Hassan's cum and streaking his face. Hassan sighed. "So beautiful ... amazing ... but we must not let such a handsome face be sullied with semen and tears."

He leaned forward, pinned Mario's biceps to the bed, and licked his face, cleaning it, sucking up the cum and salty tears. Mario moaned in ecstasy, with Hassan's dark-olive face up so close, feeling the warmth of his tongue but also the residual pain in his chest. His moans were stifled as Hassan kissed him, grinding their lips together, probing with his tongue.

When he pulled back Mario was gasping, close to sobbing as he stared up at the exotic face, the hypnotic eyes, overwhelmed with a rush of emotion and pain. But it was not the pain in his chest now – it was the pain Hassan had described – the pain of beauty that could be healed only by possession. But this time it was a need not to possess but to be possessed. More than anything Mario wanted this man to own him, consume him, do to him whatever he wanted.

With a faint smile he said, "I yield to you, sir. My body is yours. Do with me as you will."

"Good, so we have reached that point. I have no wish to hurt you, Mario, but as my prisoner you must not insult me the way you did. I am a U.S. Marine Captain. You must respect me and do exactly as I say – capisce?

"Capisco, capitano. I understand."

"First, let us see if you are telling the truth. He eased back on his knees until he was looking down at the bulge in Mario's jeans. He ripped them open and smiled with satisfaction at the long, rigid cock that sprang out of them. Yes, you were sincere, I see it. Now you are ready for me to work on you, to work on that beautiful body and mind and bend you to my will."

He resumed his position kneeling over Mario's waist and said, "Now you will see the power I have over you, boy. You will resist but it will be futile. I have learned that no one can resist me.

Again that arrogance! Mario determined not to give in no matter how much pain the soldier inflicted. But there was no pain. Quite the contrary. Hassan reached forward to Mario's chest and he flinched in readiness for a renewed onslaught in his nipples and more pain. But there was nothing ... well, almost nothing ... just the faintest hint of something light as a feather brushing over the tip of his nipples.

After the previous tit-torture they felt raw so that even the slightest touch made him respond. He braced again, but again all he felt was the sensuous touch of the back of Hassan's fingers. He moaned and his cock pulsed as the erotic sensation spread from his chest throughout his body and down to his balls.

Hassan was an expert and he used all the refined techniques of the interrogator to torture a man to the brink of pain but cause instead only exquisite torment of pleasure, frustration and the fear of imminent pain. As the stroking of his nipples became more insistent Mario didn't care about pain – he would have welcomed it, anything but this erotic teasing of his nipples, bringing them alive, bringing his whole body alive.

"Aah ... aah ... he moaned, his head turning helplessly from side to side, his chest flexing as he raised it up off the bed as high as possible trying to press it against the fingers that were driving him wild. "Please, signore," he almost sobbed, "I can't take any more. Please, squeeze them ... hard ... hurt me, torture my chest ..."

"But I am torturing you, Mario. There are more subtle means of torture than crude pain. I told you I will bend you to my will. And my will is to watch you in the throes of ecstasy. There is nothing more beautiful than looking at a man as beautiful as you being tortured to the point of orgasm and watching his face as he screams in the rapture of release. I can make a man beg, make him offer me anything to end the torture. What will you offer me, young man?"

"Anything ... Anything, sir. Please ... my chest is on fire ... you can do anything ... hurt me ... chain me to the wall and whip me as you did Mark ... fuck my ass, pound it ...but please, I beg you ... make me cum..."

Hassan smiled. "For me that is easy. I can make any man cum in an instant. Like this, for example..."

Suddenly he sat back on Mario's crotch so the butt of his military fatigue pants touched the Italian's cock lying out of his open jeans. Mario gasped as he felt the Marine's ass press down harder until it was grinding against his cock, but agonizingly separated from it by the rough fabric of the pants. He could feel the globes of the soldier's ass, feel his own cock lying between them, but unable to feel his flesh. It was like a frustration dream where he was trying to fuck the soldier's ass but was unable to penetrate.

"Aaagh ... no ..." he moaned in a delirium of torment – the fingers stroking his nipples and the clothed ass grinding against his cock. In a daze he heard Hassan's lilting voice. "And now I will make you cum as you requested, my beautiful Italian." His eyes fixed Mario's like lasers. "Do it now."

Suddenly the fingers squeezed the nipples savagely and Mario's screams echoed round the room as he felt his cock explode under Hassan. His body writhed, muscles flexed and his tortured face thrashed from side to side, grimacing in an ecstasy of pain and frustration.

Hassan stared down at him in awed disbelief. "Spectacular ... one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. You have whetted my appetite as never before. I will make you cum again and again."

"No, please ... I've already cum twice since I've been here. I can't cum again."

Hassan smiled down at him. "You seem to forget, young man – you are in my power. I can make you do anything."

"Now we will get down to business," Hassan said, and Mario watch spellbound as the Marine untied and pulled off his boots, then dropped his pants and stepped out of them, naked except for a khaki jockstrap.

"Aaah," Mario gasped at the pornographic sight of the tall, muscular soldier prowling like a dark-skinned panther round the bed looking down at his prisoner. Hassan stroked the bulge in his jock as he stared down at the cum-drenched body straining against its restraints, desperate for just one touch of the near-naked solider.

"I need you hard again, boy," Hassan growled.

"No, not again," Mario gasped. "My balls are drained. I cannot ..."

"You will do as I say," the soldier barked. "I told you, I can make a man hard whenever I want."

Hassan stood at the the head of the bed behind the prisoner's face. Mario tilted his head back and stared wide-eyed at the inverted image of the magnificent soldier – at the square-jawed face and blazing eyes, the broad, rock-hard shoulders, his magnificent chest, naked except for the metal dog-tags hanging between his pecs. His eyes lowered over his ripped eight-pack abs and his narrow waist circled by the waistband of the khaki jock.

His heart beat faster as he looked at the bulging pouch of the jockstrap, stained with man juices from the past, the head of his thick cock poking over the top. The muscled thighs flexed as he widened his stance, looming over his captive. Incredibly, Mario's cock was already stirring back to life and Hassan said. "Good, I knew you could not resist. But I want it iron hard."

Hassan fell forward over his body from behind his head. He braced his hands on the bed beside Mario's hips, his arms locked straight, his massive body arched over him. His biceps bulged, his pecs flexed, as he slowly lowered himself over Mario in a series of shallow pushups.

Mario thought he would pass out as the bulging jock came down toward his face, then pulled back, the lowered again, each time closer to his mouth, which he instinctively opened wide. He stretched out his tongue in a desperate attempt to touch it, and once he did, for an instant, lick the sweaty balls through the thin fabric, inhaling the pungent odor of the swelling bulge.

Then suddenly Hassan fell on him and Mario screamed into the gag of the stinking jock that filed his mouth. Frantically he breathed in and almost choked on the taste and smell of the soldier's sweat, old semen and dried piss – the rancid essence of the rugged Marine. He was close to suffocating but he breathed through his nose and became accustomed to the saliva-wet juices now trickling down his throat.

His cock was now almost hard when suddenly ... he screamed into the soaking jock as he felt his cock plunging down the captain's throat. The mouth pulled back, then fell on his cock again. Incredibly, this macho alpha male, the rugged Marine, was sucking his cock! The young Italian bucked and writhed, trying desperately to free his hands and his mouth as he choked on the stinking rag covering the soldier's cock and balls.

He felt pre-cum oozing from his cock into Hassan's mouth and strained to cum but, although his cock was shuddering, his jizz was not ready for release as he had shot a massive load only minutes before. His mind was starting to go blank, darkness overcoming him ... when suddenly it all stopped.

Hassan pulled back and sprang to his feet on the bed, astride the struggling captive. "Now you are hard – and I am going to make you cum yet again."

"No, sir, I don't think I can ... I know I can't ... I ... Aaagh...!!" He howled in disbelief as Hassan bent his knees ... and sat hard on Mario's cock, letting it slide deep inside his ass. The Marine's body shuddered, he howled and his black hair flew as his head jerked back in a convulsion of pain. He raised up, clear of the cock, then plunged down on it again.

Mario's own body thrashed and his cock was on fire as he gazed up spellbound by the sight of the soldier impaling himself on his cock, his muscular body naked except for his wet jockstrap clinging to his cock and balls.

Hassan linked his hands behind his head, his entire body flexed and his screams echoed round the room as he rose and fell hard on his prisoner's rod. Mario had never seen anything as homoerotic as the muscle-god Marine torturing his own ass just as he tortured Mario's cock.

He felt his cock bursting as it drove again and again into the cauldron of Hassan's ass, and this time there was no more holding back. Mario's cock was not his own – he himself was not his own. He belonged to the Marine. Just as Mark, chained and tortured, had fallen in love with his captor, so now did the captive Italian. His body jerked, his head tossed and his screams joined Hassan's as his cock erupted yet again, this time in the fiery depths of the soldier's ass.

But Hassan did not cum. Instead, when Mario had emptied his load, the soldier reared up like a wounded stallion, pulled his ass off the cock and sprang to his feet off the bed. A man obsessed, he quickly untied the ropes from Mario's ankles, took off his work boots then pulled his jeans down over his feet and flung them aside. Hassan's chest heaved and his eyes blazed down at the naked young jock streaked with sweat and semen, his hands still bound above him.

By this time, overwhelmed with emotion, Mario lay sobbing on the bed in total surrender. Hassan pulled off his jock and Mario gasped as he saw, for the first time that day, the Marine's cock springing out, massive and hard as a rock.

"See this, boy?" he growled, grabbing his cock in his fist. "This is what Mark felt in that desert cell. Just like you he was sobbing in surrender, hanging limply from his chains, exhausted from my working him over. He looked so magnificent that I had to do it. I had to fuck his ass ... just as I have to fuck yours."

He knelt on the bed and pushed Mario's legs high in the air. "I remember the agonized look on Mark's face as he looked up at me hollow-eyed and begged me to fuck him. And you, Mario, will do the same." He pressed the head of his steel rod against Mario's hole, pulled back and pressed again, teasing him into submission. Mario waited for the cock to enter him, waited for the ecstatic feeling of the soldier's massive rod filling his ass. But it didn't come.

"Please, sir," he sobbed. "Please ... I need it so bad. I need to feel your cock inside me. Please, captain ... please fuck me ... fuck me ... fuuuck me. Aaah!" He sighed deeply as he felt the Marine's cock enter him at last and sink slowly down his chute into the depths of his ass. "Aaah," he sighed again, "thank you sir ... it feels so good."

"You're right," Hassan smiled. He pulled Mario's legs over his shoulders, reached forward and quickly untied his wrists. Smiling into his eyes Hassan said, "You knew it would all come down to this, my friend. I knew it even as I pulled you from the rubble of that wall and you smiled up at me. That is why I suggested you come up here. For so long I have wanted to fuck the handsome Italian gardener and that was my chance."

It was a long, slow, loving, affectionate fuck. Mario reached up and ran his hands over the slabs of the soldier's pecs as the dog tags swung between them. His hands strayed up to his neck, then up over his face, tracing the contours of the sculpted features – the square, stubbled jaw, the high cheekbones and forehead – and ran his fingers through his tousled black hair.

"Bellissimo," Mario breathed. "So beautiful."

Hassan rested his palms on Mario's chest and said, "I love to feel your muscles rippling under my hands. Man, my cock feels so good in your ass. He dropped his hands to the bed, leaned forward and kissed his eyes, his cheeks and his lips in a building embrace. Then he pulled back and smiled. "How many times have you cum, my friend? Three is it? Well now you have to cum one more time."

"I know, sir," Mario said softly, "and this time there will be no problem. As soon as I feel your juice pouring into my ... aaah ... aaah ... yesss ..." He felt Hassan's cock shudder inside him, felt the warm juice bathing his ass, and Mario's cock erupted one last time, spurting juice upward, splashing on the soldier's heaving chest.

At last they were both spent and Hassan lowered himself onto Mario's cum-slicked body. He pressed their faces together and Mario smiled. "Capitano, you are a very sexy man. That was mind-blowing ... spetacollare."

"If that means what I think it means, amico, I have to agree. And there's more to come, I hope. Now close your eyes. We shall sleep for a while."

About an hour later Mario got up to pee, then he pulled on a pair of black briefs and went outside to stretch his limbs and take a few deep breaths, to regroup and clear his mind after the overwhelming experience he had just lived through with Hassan.

He was gazing over the hills when he heard footsteps on the gavel path behind him. He turned to see Eddie scrambling down the slope. He had come directly from work at the bungalow, eager to be with Hassan and hoping Mario was still there. Remembering Hassan's command, he had not cleaned up and he now appeared just as he had left the construction site – covered in dirt t and still wearing his sweaty T-shirt, cargo shorts and work boots.

Mario smiled as he watched him stumble closer, his eager young face smothered in plaster dust. His heart went out to him and, having just lived an incredible fantasy with the Marine captain, Mario seized the chance of luring Eddie into another.

He faced Eddie severely and said, "Who are you?"

Eddie stopped in confusion and his cock stiffened as he stared at the handsome Italian, stripped down to black briefs and with very rumpled hair. What was going on?

He soon found out as Mario grabbed his T-shirt by the back of the neck and hauled him into the house. "Hey, captain, look what I found outside ... this!" He held Eddie disdainfully at arm's length, too filthy to get close.

Lying naked on his back on the rumpled bed sheets, Hassan pulled himself up, leaned back on his elbows and said, "What the hell?" He caught the amused look in Mario's eye and grimaced at the boy. "What's that you got there? Is there a kid under all that grime?"

"Reckon so," Mario grinned. "He's pretty filthy though ... you want me to throw him out?"

"Nah, wait a minute. Let me check him out." Hassan got to his feet and Eddie stood watching the naked soldier pace round him, his long, thick cock swinging between his muscled thighs. Eddie's own cock reared up in his shorts.

It was not only the sight of these two gorgeous men, it was the room itself, with the rumpled sheets, clothes and boots scattered over the floor and ropes hanging loosely round all four bedposts. And the smell, the rancid odor of semen that hung thick in the air. Obviously this was the scene of some serious sex and Eddie's fertile mind raced trying to picture it.

Hassan said, "Hold his arms behind him – don't want him trying to escape." He yanked at the boy's T-shirt and ripped the neck. "You some kind of laborer, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Eddie stammered in confusion. "Just came from the construction site."

"Good – you might be just what we need. Hey Mario, we still got work to finish down on that terrace. Maybe we can put this grunt to work. And if we feel horny he could service us – reckon he's good for a blow job or two."

"At least," the Italian grinned salaciously. "Great idea. Hey, afterwards maybe we can clean him up and keep him around. He can clean this mess in the house and cook dinner for us. He'd be a kind of house boy and sex toy for us – we can share him. We may have to tie him to the bed to stop him running away, but that's OK `cos we can work him over. What d'ya think?"

"Hmm, let's see if he's up to it. OK let him go. Turn round, boy – let's see your ass. Eddie turned his back to Hassan who cupped his ass cheeks through his shorts, then slapped them a few times, making him gasp. He spun the boy round and said, "Flex your bicep." Eddie obeyed and the Marine ran his hand over his bicep then over his ragged T-shirt feeling his hard young body underneath.

He ripped the shirt a bit more to expose his nipples underneath, and squeezed them in his fingers. "Good, tight body, but you think you're tough enough to serve two masters, boy?"

"Yes, sir ... I can, sir." Eddie quivered with excitement and his cock pulsed at the thought of being treated as a houseboy and sex object by the macho soldier and his hot Italian buddy. "We can get pretty rough," Hassan growled – like this..." He squeezed his tits harder, grinding them in his fingers. "Aaah," Eddie moaned, staring at the naked solider. "Oh fuck ... no ... fuck, I ... aaagh. His body jerked violently, then became still, his breath coming in ragged sobs.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to..."

Hassan stood back and folded his arms across his chest. "Well, look what we got here." He grinned down at the big wet patch spreading over the crotch of Eddie's shorts, and soon a thick white liquid started running down his leg. "Is that jism, boy?" Hassan reached down and touched it, then licked his fingertips and said, "Yup, sure tastes like jizz to me. What d'ya think buddy?" Mario licked Hassan's fingers and agreed. "Yeah, that's cum alright."

"Shit damn," Hassan laughed. "The kid busted his load just by looking at me while I squeezed his fucking tits. Now this here's a boy we can use." Unseen by Eddie he winked at Mario. "OK, buddy, let's put him to work."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 255

Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, I urge you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy!